Amara's P.O.V.
After last night, I didn't dare sleep in my room. Instead, I had taken a cover and a pillow, and snuck into my grandmother's room. I nearly gave her a heart attack the next morning when she found me asleep on the floor. Let's just say, she thought I was sleeping. Permanently.
So after I had popped the knot in my neck, I grabbed my stuff and went back to my room. The wet footprints had dried, but mud stains were left in their place. I thought about telling Nana, but shook that thought away. She'd just tell me I was crazy. And after last night, I just might have to agree with her.
The rest of the day I was on the edge of my seat. I couldn't help but be cautious with every step I took. Each time I turned a corner, I found myself looking over my shoulder. But why? Was I really letting my over-exaggerated imagination win? Was I really that paranoid?
I can't let my mind win.
So, at 6:00 pm that night, when Nana had finished the last of her stew—Of which I had cooked for her—I promised myself that I wouldn't let my imagination get the best of me.
Who the fuck am I kidding.
I didn't stay calm—hell, I was everything but calm. I ran straight up to my room, flung open the door, and practically refused to take more than a baby step through the doorway. I let my eyes scan the room at least six times before I took another step. Once I deemed it safe, I ran and jumped onto the bed. Yes, jumped.
Why yes, yes I am an actual five year old. This face of a seventeen year old girl is obviously a mask.
My bed, as comfy as ever, didn't seem to be enough to grant my brain the bliss of sleep. That was definitely unusual, but it most likely had to do with the eyes I could feel staring into the back of my head.
Though, no matter how many times I threw my head back in attempt to surprise whatever I had decided was stalking me, I was always greeted by nothingness.
Damn, that was getting on my nerves.
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another short one, I know, but I just wanted to get into the habit of updating more frequently.
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